Hope and Devotion (Chapter One)

Hope and Devotion (Chapter Fifteen)

Ashe awoke from her slumber; it had been two days since her husband had taken her to the hospital. She spent most of the time sleeping, and the rest dealing with the aftermath of her son's death. Every muscle still ached even as she lay still on the bed. She heard her husband's footsteps, coming down the hall, in the short few days she had already learned to pick his out from the general chaos of the hospitals' noise. He spent as much time as could with her, offering her comfort as needed. Without him, she would have to deal with the grief alone, leaving her terribly upset and feeling strangely empty. The grief as sadness of Raminas' death was too much to bear alone, combined with the recent events and façade she was forced to put on for the resistance, she wondered if one day she may find herself finally caving in to her emotions.

The pain and soreness still had only faded with the help of various nameless medicines that the nurses had brought in at regular intervals. Despite the care she received, she felt feverish and ill, causing her doctor to worry about the possibility of her developing puerperal fever, in her weakened state. His fears were confirmed shortly after. Now her stay was longer, and her recovery halted. The idea of being confined to a bed for more than six weeks frightened her, especially since she had planned to properly bury her son. It was all rather melancholy, a mother mourning the death of her first baby, while confined in bed with only a few visitors, and even fewer windows. She wondered if she could even keep her sanity in such conditions.

Rasler stepped into the room with Vossler following behind. Her husband took his seat next to her in the chair that he placed there days ago; it was left untouched by the staff due to his long and frequent visits. She offered her hand, and he took it into his. Ashe nodded to both of them. "Thank you for coming," she said weakly.

Vossler shook his head, "It's nothing your highness." he handed her an envelope and then took a seat. "I am so sorry for what happened, you have my condolences. I pray that your recovery is swift."

She gave a nod in reply, as talking about the recent events with others was quite painful. Vossler only saw her as a weak princess in constant need for protection, she had to appear strong to him even now. If not he would become even more protective of her, taking away her newfound independence, and forcing her to stay underground and in the sewers away from the streets of her beloved city.

"How are our men doing?" she asked changing the subject.

"Same as always, the former soldiers fight with instinct and passion, while the others stumble through causing trouble." Vossler paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. "The men who incited the riot, are in custody of the empire. My sources say they may have mentioned the resistance."

Ashe gasped. "If the empire knows, then all our work is for naught."

Vossler gestured in agreement. "But it seems that they do not see us as a threat to their control, merely a few angry citizens, and the result of their conquest that is to be expected. As long as we keep a low profile, there is no reason to be concerned."

"I'm relieved to hear that. I wish there's something that I could do."

"Worry not your highness."

She was a leader in the resistance, and yet he would still try to brush off her responsibilities and place them upon others. Despite being the rightful heir to Dalmasca's throne, there were times she felt that, he was only using her as a sort of figurehead. "How can I not?" She frowned. "I am confined to bed rest for who knows how long, while a harsh and oppressive empire rules my people, while the sole resistance army is putting itself at risk for exposure."

He looked down, "I did not mean it that way. I was more concerned about your recovery; I didn't want the worry to hinder it."

She nodded weakly.